Your erotic stories

Mariah walked out of the office feeling extremely self-conscious. She'd never once in her life imagined that she'd have to accept public assistance, but circumstances had forced her to do exactly that. After losing her job and having no luck finding another one, her savings had run out, leaving her little choice. Her family was helping, but it was barely enough to pay the rent and utilities, and she couldn't bring herself to ask for more.

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Our first time together was really amazing. I am still reeling from how many times you got me off. Moving outside my comfort zone has been so rewarding! You enjoyed my body - my peach-sized breasts with their pointed nipples that responded so readily to your eager mouth, loving hands or tireless cock; my tanned body that was agile enough to keep up with you; my warm pussy that responded so wetly to the pleasures you shared.

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When I was a kid my best mate was Dean Kelly. As so happens with these things, our mothers got to know each other when they would pick Dean and I up from school, and they too became friends. I would stay over at the Kelly's place and Dean would often stay over at our place. The Kelly's had a pool and so summers were always more fun at Dean's house! Dean and I were on the same touch football team as well and so our families started to go on outings with each other, such as picnics, hikes, football and cricket matches, and the occasional camping trip.

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When she crossed over I-80, Nancy snuggled her lean frame into the soft leather that was wrapped around the driver's seat and kicked off her heels. The countryside and farms blurred beside her and she day-dreamed as the car continued its course, almost on autopilot, down I-57 towards Champaign, Illinois. She enjoyed these drives. They represented the only time during the week when she could shut down, block out the irritations of her life.

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The doorbell rang and I went to answer it, it was Tas. Tas has come to see why my broadband was not working. A little bit about me first. Let's start with my name. I'm Louisa, but you can call me Lou; everyone does, even Tas. I'm fifty three and have been a widow for three years. Yes my husband died the day after my fiftieth birthday. He had a stroke. We did make love the night before.

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I first noticed him at the opening game of the high school basketball season. I had heard the team was going to be good this year, and wanted to see the top senior scorer. He wasn't the one, however, that caught my eye almost immediately. It was the other senior. The shorter, more rugged guard, who was quick and handled the ball with skill. I wondered who he was, so I casually asked a parent sitting next to me in the bleachers. They told me his name and gave me a little background information.

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"Go piss off and walk your fucking dog!" My girlfriend shouted at me for coming home drunk late last night. My girlfriend and I share a flat. A new place we recently moved into and a new neighbourhood for us. And as you have gathered, we have, well it's my dog. I had slept most of the day and it was around six o'clock Friday evening. Yeah I know, lazy bastard. Well we both had a few days off work for the move. It was Friday, and we also had the weekend off. I was out with a few mates drinking, chatting, drinking, eyeing up girls, drinking... you know what young men get up to in their early twenties.

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Lying in the chair, stretching lazily beneath the summer sun Nikki heard the rowdy voices of her new neighbors. It was just after ten in the morning when the signs of life had started to show next door, and by the sounds of things, the party was in full swing again. Nikki listened. Loud voices talking over the loud music. The phone ringing, someone calling out to another. A young female squealing with laughter, male voices cheering with obvious approval. She had to smile at what she heard.

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Liz sighed, watching an especially amorous young couple who had obviously forgotten they were on a public beach. He was gorgeous, and as much as Liz would have liked to live vicariously through the redhead he was pawing for a few minutes, she blew her whistle anyway. The pair looked more than a little embarrassed when they finally realized after the second tweet that the whistle was meant for them.

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My name is Jennifer. I'm a thirty-nine year old divorcee and mother of two precious little boys. Of course, they aren't so little anymore for Seth just turned twelve last month and Cody will be ten next month; but they are still my babies. And like any mother, they are my whole life; my whole world and my very reason for living. I spoil them rotten and dote on them constantly. Their father and I have been divorced for nearly five years now and according to the divorce decree, he has visitation with them one night a week, every other weekend and two months over the summer.

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